Don't really have much to say here, but i've heard there were cautions for tornadoes and earthquakes around the globe? Well, sending my love! Hope everyone is okay :D
I suppose I should explain everything to her. I guess I should tell her I don’t know what a iPod is, or what she means when she says ‘K’. I think I should say something.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t.
“My name is Bridget.” She says softly, while we sit in what she calls an ‘open all hours over-priced café’. Whatever that is. “Bridget Whipslash. You yelled Necros before you were knocked out. Is that you name?”
I nod my head, because I don’t remember telling her, but I guess she’s right.
“Were you in the van that crashed?”
I don’t remember anything about a van. I just remember the grass as I ran my finger over each blade. I remember the feel of frost on the cheeks. And then nothing. Just a blank from that point to sitting up in her car with the heat source thingy on full blast. I remember her telling me she had put the air-conditioning on, and her confused face when I asked her what she was on about.
Instead I nod. Because it seems like an easier explanation to everything.
“Where were you going?”
I frown, because I don’t think the point was to go anywhere.
“Do you remember?”
I shake my head, as a thin girl with a ridiculous device that is belting large sounds from itself on the top of her head, places a cup in front of me. Bridget smiles at her, and the thin girl says a little too loudly ‘coffee for you as well miss?’ and Bridget shakes her head mechanically. Maybe she’s just not thirsty.
Bridget does ask for today’s newspaper instead, and the girl smiles and reaches for one on the top of the counter. She places it on the table, and Bridget nudges it over to me. When the thin girl walks off to another person, Bridget laughs.
“Have a look through it. You might be a missing person.”
I had no idea that it was put upon civilians to do such high authority abilities.
To find a missing person is like trying to figure out how you feel about someone without knowing who he or she is. It’s physically impossible. Unless you know where that person is heading, and if you don’t you need to figure it out. If anyone knew where I had been, the secret would be astonishing. I don’t even truly know myself.
It’s like I heard the whisper of the street without understanding the name; as if someone gave me directions without telling me where I was going.
Instead of flicking through the newspaper, a small print below the title catches my eye. I stare at it; because surely I should know better.
‘December 2nd 2010’
The words are printed clear as if each letter is burning through the paper.
“What’s wrong?” Bridget asks. I imagine that her face is full of confusion, that she is blankly staring at me while I try to think of a reasonable explanation. I don’t look up at her. I don’t think I can.
The date is wrong. The damn date is wrong.
Who gets a date wrong?
On a newspaper?
I look up at her then, and her valiant steely green eyes are scanning the newspaper in front of me. Doesn’t she see the date? “What’s wrong Necros?”
“The date,” I mumble. “It’s wrong.”
“No it’s not. It’s December 2nd. 2010.”
“A century.” I think out-loud. “It’s a century out.”
“What-” Bridget stops herself, and leans back against the leather furnishing. She sinks down slightly, her lips slightly open as if she is about to finish her sentence. She’s staring out the window next to us, across the streets.
I guess this is the part where I tell her the truth. That I was not in that accident. That I really, well and truly have no clue what this shop is supposed to provide to the public. That the date on this black and white paper is wrong. It has to be. It must be.
“Oh.” She says simply, still glancing out of the window.
I think she might be mad, but I still have no idea. She’s just looking out of the window, thinking. I watch her carefully drum her finger tips on the edge of the table, as the thin girl comes back, pouring some disgusting liquid into my cup. Once she is gone, Bridget turns back to me. It’s impossible to tell what she has to say.
“I,” She stops, shakes her head and stands. Tears are in her eyes, and she in biting her bottom lip as it quivers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you.” She says slowly, closing her eyes while she says it. She hands me some thin paper and silver coins.
“I’m sorry,” She finishes, opening her eyes and quickly escaping the store.
Bridget is gone, I think to myself.
I don’t love her, I know that much. But for now, she is the only person I have watched walk away from me. I don’t remember opening my eyes while I walked from others.
I suppose this is was it feels like to be a freak.
Well, this was just a surprise anyway, but there it is! (Hellboy, you seriously need to to update. Or i will do...something.)
Anyway, who's doing what for Halloween? I'm going trick or treating *hey, it's FREE candy!* and i think i'm dressing as a killer or something. I don't know. I'm just wearing ripped jeans, striped top, and white face paint with fake blood. Let other people use their imagination when guessing what i am xD